


The Cutest Bane of My Existence

by Molly_Hats



Category: Batman (Comics), Batwoman (Comic), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I adore that "Original Dog Characters" is a tag, I freaking adore that tag so I may have undersold the amount of editing to use it, It started as cute dog fluff and then turned into angst, even though its technically not accurate, minimal editing we die like mne, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 16:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Hats/pseuds/Molly_Hats
Summary: Bette Kane goes out alone on patrol.  A week later, she has a broken leg, some semi-crushed flowers, a visit from Dick Grayson, and a puppy.  So all in all, she came out on top.





	The Cutest Bane of My Existence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flamebirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamebirds/gifts).



> Based on a [true story](https://flamebiirds.tumblr.com/post/181834832759/this-is-macha-the-cutest-bane-of-my-existence)

Dick had a few minutes before dinner, so he decided to swing by Bette’s and drop off a bouquet of flowers with a warm color scheme he figured she’d appreciate and chat for a little while. Bruce had mentioned that she’d broken her leg recently, although he didn’t bother telling Dick the details and Dick hadn’t had time to look them up. 

The second Dick swung the screen door open, a tremendous barking came from behind the door. He straightened, shifting the flowers in his hand into a more defensive position. 

“Who’s there?” came Bette’s voice from inside. 

Dick lifted the flowers again, relieved. “It’s Dick!”

Dick heard shifting sounds on the other side of the door, the sound that he knew must be a crutch and a regular foot. Finally, the door swung open, and a tiny ball of black and white fur leapt out at him. 

“Macha, no!” Bette commanded. “Can you grab her?”

Dick dropped the flowers and lunged for the barking shape, rolling off the porch and onto the grass with the dog held triumphantly aloft. 

Bette laughed. 

“Since when do you have a dog?” Dick asked. 

“Since she saved my life. Come on in,” Bette said, letting go of her crutch to wave him in.

* * *

Once Macha was inside and Dick had gathered up the flowers and arranged them in a vase, Bette escorted Dick to the living room. She plopped herself down on the red couch across from his pink fuzzy folding chair. 

“So...how’d she save your life?” Dick asked.

Bette grinned fondly as Macha settled by her feet. “I was breaking up a trafficking ring--the one I called you guys about?”

“The one you shouldn’t have gone in alone on?” Dick said.

Bette waved her hand. “Ehh, it worked out, didn’t it?”

“You have a broken leg.”

“Yeah, well, it’d’ve been way worse if my little warrior didn’t bark at the right time,” Bette said, petting Macha. “And then, when I was busy fighting and some jerk snuck up on me, she bit him.” 

Dick raised his eyebrows. He studied the tiny dog, who was now engaging in a fight to the death with Bette’s motionless crutch. 

“Are you going to--”

“Nah. She deserves it.” Bette’s eyes practically shone with pride. “Who’s my good little warrior girl?” she cooed.

Macha gnawed on the end, nearly ripping off the tip. 

“Who’s the greatest slayer of crutches in the world, huh?” Bette continued.

Dick watched with a mixture of fondness and confusion reminiscent of his interactions with Damian. 

Bette finally lifted the crutch out of Macha’s reach. The dog didn’t follow it, instead sitting back with a self-satisfied look on her face. Bette scooped her up in her arms and scratched her under the chin. 

“So...you’re getting along fine?” Dick asked.

Macha licked at Bette’s chin. Bette laughed, enthralled for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. At least until she starts her campaign against my nose again.” 

“Make sure she gets her shots and stuff.” Dick immediately hated himself for saying it. 

Bette rolled her eyes. 

“I mean it, you have no idea what she’s been exposed to,” Dick said. “Trust me, I have been through enough of this with Damian. What’ve you had before, a fish?”

“ _Several_ fish,” Bette said. “And I’ve read everything you can on dogs. Always wanted one. I moved around too much to ever get one.” 

“Right.” Dick felt a pang of guilt realizing how little he actually knew about his cousin’s upbringing. Bette was deceptively shallow, projecting her every thought so that he never wondered what might lurk beneath. Now it felt too late, that he had let too much time pass uncaring for him to learn now.

“Tell Damian he’s free to come and visit us,” Bette said. “Or any of the rest of them, I guess, but Damian seems like he’d like her the most.”

Dick grinned easily for the first time since coming to the house. “That I can see.”

“Thanks for the flowers,” Bette said. 

“No problem. I hope you get well soon,” Dick said. He stood halfway up, then hesitated, his hand still on the armrest. “We can use you out there.”

Bette’s eyes widened the tiniest bit before she schooled them back into a normal expression. “You’re not just saying that?”

Dick shrugged, plopping back down in the chair. “You did a good job with the trafficking ring. Still should have called us.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Seriously. You don’t need to be so independent,” Dick said. “We can--”

The flicker of happiness in Bette’s eyes vanished, replaced by anger. “Independent?” Macha leapt out of Bette’s lap to sit on the couch beside her as Bette sat up straighter. “All you and your family have ever told me is get out, stay home, we don’t want you. And now when I go on my own, you say I don’t have to be? That would’ve been great to know, _Dick_.”

Dick raised his hands in surrender. “We were worried about you.”

“Everyone in our family is a vigilante or has survived more than their share of messed up stuff! Why the hell do you and Kate think I’m the exception? What the hell gives you the right to judge me?” Bette glared at the vase of slightly smooshed red and yellow buds. “To think I’m some fragile flower you need to shelter?” 

“Betty--”

“You don’t know anything about me, do you?” Bette said, her voice turning soft, almost sympathetic. “I’m sure Bruce has a file on me somewhere, but you’ve never read it.” 

Dick didn’t think that pointing out he had skimmed it once when he was really bored would be helpful.

“Dick, what were my parents’ names?” 

Dick didn’t answer, cursing his imperfect memory. If it were Barbara in this position, she would already be chatting about Bette’s past by now.

Bette shook her head. 

“Bette, please, we were trying to protect you! Kate couldn’t lose any more of her family--” 

“Get out of my house,” Bette said, her voice turning low, cold, dangerous. “I know you’re dying to. This is uncomfortable, after all. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you, and you think it’s too late to fix that. So run back home, Wayne boy.”

Dick stood up. He was nearly to the door before he asked, “Are the doors still open to Damian?” 

“My doors are open to all of you,” Bette said. She stroked Macha’s shoulders. “‘Stemus simul,’ even if no one will let me.”

Dick hesitated at the threshold. 

“Go,” Bette ordered. Macha barked.

Dick left.

Bette buried her face in Macha's back.


End file.
